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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338212">and hades gives her a pomegranate.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnywrites/pseuds/vinnywrites'>vinnywrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, F/F, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:08:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnywrites/pseuds/vinnywrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What others have failed to realize is this: that she and the pomegranate seed are familiarized with the touch of ruthless fingers digging into their skin, ripping them apart — flesh flickering to the floor, blood exposing the bodies they have inhabited — and leaving the whole wide world to gaze upon their insides, acting as if they were the prettiest of treasures."</p><p>Or, Adora is Hades and Catra is Persephone. Change my mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and hades gives her a pomegranate.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was wildly inspired by a poet’s poem on tumblr called pencap! Follow me on Twitter, @vinnytweets, and tumble, @vinnyposts</p><p>If you can’t tell, the name I go by is Vinny.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>and hades gives her a pomegranate. <br/><br/></b>written by <em>vinnywrites</em></p><p><br/>***</p><p> </p><p><em> mother you don’t understand, / i </em><em>made hades run to me. / s</em><em>he saw my bones underneath /  </em> <em> and offered me half of her kingdom. /  </em> <em> did you really think /</em><em> i ate the fruit unwillingly? </em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p><em>She and the Pomegranate Seeds </em>/ <b>PART</b> <b>ONE</b> /</p><p>
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</p><p>She watches as fingers dig into the red fruit, long pale fingers becoming stained by a red juice that resembles the blood that runs in the veins of mortals up above. Slowly, a clenched hand slowly removes itself from within the fruit, the skin of the pomegranate stuck underneath her blunt nails, the juice not only staining her knuckles but also the expensive and glittering jewelry on her fingers. She moved her arm slowly, until a hand was outstretched and her fingers stopped cuddling inwards. It looked like a bloody mess, and in the middle of the woman’s palm was red seeds — six red seeds. </p><p> </p><p>“Go on,” she tells her, speaking slowly and dragging the words out. Her very voice bounces off the walls of hell, and her eyes seemed to glow as they continued studying her facial expressions. “Taste the fruit of the underworld.” <em> Taste the fruits of my future promises, of my pain and my power and my labour and my riches. Taste the fruit of the darkness and the evils and the light, taste the fruit of my proclamations of love towards you. Taste the fruit of me. </em></p><p> </p><p>They will say it was a <em> trap </em>. </p><p> </p><p>They will call her naive, absent-minded, not thinking very clearly as she reached towards the woman’s palm and started plucking the seeds into her mouth, a sweet texture burning into her tongue as pleasure runs down her spine. </p><p> </p><p>They will call her <em> foolish </em>, that she was taken and kidnapped and was forced to be fed and everyone will agree. </p><p> </p><p>She smiles a smile, a smile of falseness, pretending that she doesn't know what she is doing as she ate the fruit of hell. But with the way she couldn’t stop the twinkle in her eye, the way that the woman’s eyes soften drastically and how her lips turned up as one seed being swallowed turned into two, then turned into three — they both know that she knew what exactly she was doing, that she does know the not so well hidden meaning behind the woman’s gift. </p><p> </p><p>The juices stained her teeth and lips, and as red droplets slid down her plump bottom lip to the side of the chin, both of the women smiled at one another as she plucked another seed and placed it on her mouth. </p><p>
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</p><p><b> <em> ( </em> </b> <em> What is Like Loving a God? </em> <b>)</b></p><p>
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</p><p>The cloth of immortality is stitched upon her skin, they will never see what old age looks upon her for her skin will never wrinkle, her hair will never grey as long as gold runs in her veins. Bruises have never lingered, and for all of her life she will have this pale complexion that is so clear that it fails to utter the tragedies she has been through. Like the blood that runs in her veins, golden strands erupt from her scalp and fall down her shoulders, looking like a waterfall. She is darkness, with the way her touch lingers and she can’t help but gasp as her fingers start moving downwards, leaving tickling sensations as they do. She is light, with the way her eyes sparkle wherever the moonlight starts following wherever she walks. </p><p> </p><p>There is a storm within that you cannot see. Her skin does not tell her stories and her eyes are much guarded like a fence, blocking the path of a soul that aches for closure, for affection and love, for staying up in the middle of the night and discussing their plans as winter comes upon the Earth or the latest politics of the Underworld. She is a failing portrait, a Grecian beauty that holds too many secrets in her dark mind. </p><p> </p><p>She wears armor as if it were skin and it was the only thing protecting her. She ties her hair back so no one will ever know how closely she is falling apart, using it as a metaphor that if her hair is pristine and cleaned and out together, then so was she. </p><p> </p><p>But despite being a god, she loves and acts like a mortal. She loves like she has nothing to lose, she holds her within her arms as if she loosen her grip, Catra will disappear, she kisses as if she won a war, desperate hands constantly moving and wandering, as if she was a spoil of war she had just won. She cries whenever she gets too emotional and her eyes always linger on the flowers that had followed Catra to hell, her eyes softening as pretty pink petals stick out against the dark and depressing decor. </p><p> </p><p>And she thinks, as Adora presses her lips against her jaw, how anyone could be so unbelievably kind and caring. And she thinks, as Adora pulls one of her curls and watches it as it bounces back to its place, is this what death is like? It's like coming home to a woman who has loved you all of your life, is finally at peace within yourself, is it living in the woods and seeing the animals around you so unbelievably happy, is death home? Is it peaceful? Because to Catra, death is so undeniably beautiful and warm and caring. </p><p> </p><p>And she wonders how anyone could look at death, and see someone so cruel — because all Catra sees is a woman who was a little lonely. </p><p>
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</p><p><b> ( </b> <em> And Beloved, You Are So Unbelievably Cruel </em> <b> )</b></p><p>
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</p><p>She whispers late at night, as they sit in the garden, Adora watching as Catra grows flowers only to watch them decay slowly. “You are so utterly terrifying.” Her hair isn’t up for once, her dirty locks are tumbling down her shoulders, the shorter strands are framing her face delicately and beautifully — as if an artist had placed them there on purpose. Her eyes are filled with warmth and adoration as she gazes at her.</p><p> </p><p>She cracks a smile. They have always said that she was delicate, that she wore lace dresses and weaved pretty flowers into her hair, on how she sang with the birds and danced with the nymph children of the woods. She was soft and beautiful, but never terrifying. “Is that so? Everyone would disagree with that sort of statement, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>Adora flushes, but her grin kept twitching up until it revealed her teeth. “Anyone who disagrees is a fool that I pity, for life is so undeniably cruel,” she placed a hand on Catra’s cheek, and her face softened as Catra purred and rubbed her cheek into Adora’s palm. “And you are the cruelest among us all.” </p><p> </p><p>For Death did love all. It welcomed everybody and anybody with open arms, regardless if they are the biggest sinner of them all. Death was finally coming home to a long day of duty. Life was not so kind, but everyone liked to pretend otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>They will never write down in their pages of history on how Catra laughed as Icarus fell and had his wax wings burning into his skin. They will never tell the tales of her anger, on how she pulled lightning and rain from the clouds with her bare hands. They will never tell of her sadistic nature as she whispered the task she had given to Orpheus, a smile dancing on her face as she watched the pair of lovers walk to their doom. Life was disguised as a beautiful face, but behind those various colored eyes that sparkled at the thoughts of dangers, behind those fingers that had created life, was a beast with bones that ached for blood. </p><p> </p><p>They will always see her as soft, as kind and gentle, and it had always bothered her that she had been reduced to such a minimal role. But as Adora gazed upon her with those soft eyes, leaning in closer and closer to press their lips against one another, Catra had finally found her place among the wailing spirits and the angered dark. </p><p>
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</p><p><em>She and the Pomegranate Seeds </em>/ <b>PART</b> <b>TWO</b> /</p><p>
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</p><p>What others have failed to realize is this: that she and the pomegranate seed are familiarized with the touch of ruthless fingers digging into their skin, ripping them apart — flesh flickering to the floor, blood exposing the bodies they have inhabited — and leaving the whole wide world to gaze upon their insides, acting as if they were the prettiest of treasures. </p><p> </p><p>She knows exactly what she is doing as she places the seed in her mouth. Her and the pomegranate seeds are daughters of the Earth, they are loved and desired by all, their skin is lightly grazed by the sun of the light, they are embraced by the various of winds that run through their hair, they are kissed passionately and painfully of the tears that fall down from the clouds. It’s not a gift. It’s not a trap. She and the pomegranate seed share a soul in two separate bodies — it’s a kindred spirit.</p><p> </p><p>The juice stains her lips and she smiles as she swallows the last of the fruit. She smiles as she reaches her arms up to wrap them around Adora’s neck and pull the woman closer, until their noses were gently rubbing against one another. </p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t naive. She wasn’t foolish. The whole world had gazed at her as if she were a prize, but Hades — Adora — had looked at her and seen beneath the unblemished skin, see beneath of her pretty abilities and ignored the minimal role she was given in this play of life and offered her another. </p><p> </p><p>She smiles as she pressed their lips together, tongues invading mouths as if it was a pretty terrority, and the mix of blood and juice stain their throats. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i 👏🏽 hate 👏🏽 this, also please comment<br/>i also apologize if this doesn’t make sense, i just needed to get something out of my system and writers block is hitting hard today so... Persephone and Hades, duh</p><p>edit: this ain’t edited haha 🙈</p></blockquote></div></div>
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